Remember Me - alternative ending
by Tassilo02
Summary: Based on the movie Remember Me starrin Robert Pattinson, I created a new, more satisfactory ending where Tyler does not die. The topic is still 09/11, though. If you were in any way closely affected by the events back then, this story might not be the right one for you. However, this one shot story does not contain any descriptions of what happened then. It is only hinted at.


A one-shot for all of those who, just like me, wished that Remember Me would have ended on a different note. The ending still takes place on 11th September, with the major difference that Tyler will not be in the building. He will not die.

The story picks up at the scene where Charles and Tyler are in the NYPD waiting room shortly after Tyler having been released from jail for the second time after having thrown a tantrum at school. Important changes that I made: At this stage Ally has not yet reconciled with Tyler. And Charles has not come and visited Caroline at home after what happened to her hair.

If you were at all concernced during 09/11 and you memories are still attached to it, because you might have lost someone, then maybe you shouldn'T read this one - however, the events are not being described in any way in that short story. And none of the characters die.

NYPD, 10th Sept.

When Tyler entered the waiting area he saw that his father was already awaiting him. He walked over to him and noticed that the latter was impatiently fiddling with the keys of his car. It was obvious that he was under pressure and on the go as usual. On top of that he appeared rather annoyed off by the fact that his son had spent some time behind bars yet again.

"Thank you," Tyler mumbled reluctantly and broke the uncomfortable silence that had come between them. Charles let out a sigh and crinkled his forehead.

"Do you intend to make these visits to jail a habit?" he asked, sounding rather on edge.

Tyler ignored his question and grumpily lit a cigarette instead. He felt in desperate need of a fag right now, but then a bully ofan officer approached him and told him not to smoke. Rolling his eyes, Tyler flicked the cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out with his foot. From the corner of his eye he sawhis father smile apologetically and somewhat embarrassed at the officer who shot him and Tyler a warning look and then walked off.

Tyler nervously scratched his head."They charged me with - "

"Look, I don't want to hear about it now," Charles cut him off brusquely, "I am about to meet this guy Takuro in half an hour."

As if on cue the mobile phone in Charles's trouser pocket began to ring.

"That will be him. Excuse me for a moment," Charles mumbled, took the cell phone out of his pocket and answered it.

A bitter smile played around Tyler's lips. Of course his father had not the slightest intention of dealing with him now. How could Tyler have expected anything else. He was glad that his father had at least turned up to bail him out. Yet again.

"Takuro?" Charles said, appearing overly friendly and all merry now as if someone had operated a switch, "Konnichiwa! How areyou? ... Fine, fine, thanks...!... What? Oh, you are already there? Yes, yes, no problem at all, I will be right with you! I am onmy way. See you in..."

Charles took a quick look at his watch.

",,, let's say about twenty minutes. I am just coming out of another meeting, but it didn't take as long as I had ..., yes... sure... Sayoonara, see you soon."

Charles stuck the mobile back in his pockets and the merry look on his face disappeared. He turned to Tyler, who was still standing next to him, staring into nothingness and hoping to soon be able to escape the scruffy air inside the police building that smelt for a strange mixture of floor polish and stale male sweat, until he realized that it were his own body and clothes that smelt sweaty because he had not had a chance to wash for quite a while. He felt strangely out of place next to his father, who as usual was smart-looking and after-shaved-all-overr.

"Tyler, I am off," Charles remarked busily and with his thoughts already trailing off to other things. Tyler could tell from his father's absent-minded glance that the latter's mind was already occupied with his next business obligation and the next one after that and the next one after that and so on.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning in my office. 8 a.m. sharp. Then we'll sort everything out. Until then try to stay away from anything with bars if you can..."

Charles's rattling voice trailed away as he stepped out into the open and hastened over to his car. He arrived just in time before a gaunt, grim looking female traffic warden could write a ticket because he had parked in a no-parking remained standing at the door for another while, finally lit the so much desired cigarette, and glumly watched his father as he talked the traffic warden out of giving him a ticked, who he jumped in his car and and sped off. Soon he disappeared amidst the traffic which was relentlessly rolling through the city.

Tyler slowly trotted back to his apartment. He wasn't in a hurry to get home. In fact he was dawdling like a school boy who had received bad marks and wanted to delay the moment of confronting his parents. He felt just miserable right now.

Not that he felt really guilty though. No, there wasn't really any reason to feel guilty. All he had done was to gain some respect for his little sister. And from the terrified looks of her classmates he gathered that his little performance had had the desired effect. His sister's grateful smile was worthspending a couple of hours in a cell with a guy whose breath had smelt for booze and who―judging his looks―could have easily passed as Marylin Manson.

Tyler hated the thought of seeing Aidan whose silly comments he could easily do without lately. What had once been jolly daily entertainment, which usually had cheered him up when he was down, was now a mere unbearable nuisance. If only he hadn't listened to him. But then he wouldn't have chatted up Ally. He wouldn't have gotten to know her at all, because he was sure he wouldn't have had the courage to talk to her. She wasn't like the other girls who had ended up under his sheets eventually. She was one of those hard-to-get-types that men, who liked to chase and be teased, were attracted to.

Walking through the streets, he eventually found himself down in the subway, jostling his way through the crowds of commuters, that were waiting on the platforms for their trains to arrive. As he was joining them in their wait, he had to think about Ally again, about how much he missed her. Another reason why he didn't really feel in a hurry to return to his flat. He had begun to dread the emptiness when she wasn't there. He had gotten so used to having her around, of having her next to him in bed when he fell asleep at night and woke up in the morning. She had managed to lighten up that tiny simple place with her easy-going, delightful presence. But now there was only Aidan and his smelly socks and dirty underpants, strewn all over the place.

Tyler entered the train, and as it was darting through the darkness underground, he suddenly began to wonder what sense life was making at all. Almost everything seemed to be in bits and pieces and it didn't look as if there was a chance it could bemended in the near future; if ever at all.

_Come on, pull yourself together..., _Tyler thought to himself.

He didn't intend to follow in his brother's footsteps and become suicidal. Apart from that he couldn't think of any way that he could possibly kill himself. It didn't mean that he didn't have any ideas,but neither of them he felt courageous enough to pull it through.

_Well, I am a coward and a fool after all. Just like my father keeps telling me..._

The train stopped. People got out, others got in. A mother and her daughter, laden with about ten shopping bags, took a seat next to him, and soon Tyler found himself wrapped in overly sweet clouds of some kind of rose perfume.

He still had two stops ahead of him. He closed his eyes and exhaled, thinking about Ally's arms, how it felt when she embraced him, when she kissed him. The little girl next to him was listening to her ipod at full volume. He could hear the faint sound of some sultry love song, which he simply couldn't bear right now. He got up and walked over to the exit although it was too soon for him to get out. The girl and her mother cast him a wondrous and slightly indignant glance. Not that he cared.

Next day

The next morning Tyler crawled out of bed and trotted into the bathroom. He hastily took a shower as he was a little late. He dreaded that he wouldn't make it to his father's office until the arranged time. There was, however, something else that made him rush: He wanted to be out of the flat before Aidan woke up. He didn't even bother to have breakfast. He gladly could dowithout breakfast if it only meant that he wouldn't have to face his roommate. It was bad enough to see him in the hardly exchanged a word and went to the pub separately. The issue 'Ally' simply stood between them. Tyler held a grudge against Aidan and equally held a grudge against himself for not having been wise enough to duck out of this stupid idea of revenge, although he had secretly known all along that this plan wouldn't remain undetected in the long run. On the other side he had to admit that he was angry at Ally, too. Was it not enough that he again and again had declared to her that he was sorry and that he wanted to be with her? Of course he could understand that she might need some time to digest the truth about the reason for him getting involved with her. But he had been naive enough to guess that a day or two would be enough to forgive him and that she would call him eventually.

But she hadn't called him. And he had not called her because somehow he didn't want to be the one to come crawling yet again.

On the way to his father's office he bought himself a donut and a coffee to go. In the hurry that he was, though, he drooled the coffee all over his shirt. Now his hands were sticky and his shirt showed a nasty stain. He guessed that his father would not be amused when he saw him.

_You act like a toddler..._

He walked over to the entrance door of the WTC, passed security, got inside, crossed the vast hall and got in one of theelevators with six other people.

"We need to give Smithfield a ring about this," one man said, talking into the headset attached to his mobile phone. "Yes,...hm... yes, that's exactly what I mean..."

The man was talking for another minute or so, then he hung up. Tyler had always found it kind of funny watching other people speaking into their headsets, gesticulating as if they were talking to themselves. He hardly used his mobile phone. He found that it was a nuisance. Nowadays there simply wasn't any excuse anymore for being unavailable because everybody was practically available at any given time 24/7.

After a little while he reached the 90th floor, where his father's office was located. Janine, Charles's assistant, was sitting at her desk, her fingers hammering onto the keypad of her computer. She looked up, when he entered, then leant over and demonstratively removed the glass bowl from the reception counter - the one that he had once used to extinguish his fag.

He cast her a faint smile and said: "No worries. I don't feel like smoking right now, I already had an energizing dose of coffein this morning."

"I can see that," Janine remarked with a slightly nauseated glance at his shirt. Then she hesitantly got up and led him along the marble corridor to his father's office.

"He is expecting you," she said.

"What does the mood barometer say?" Tyler asked with a weary smile.

"Slightly overcast but with sunny spells," Janine replied merrily.

"Cool," Tyler answered with a smirk, then he stepped into the office.

His father was sitting at his desk and was sucking at a cigar, obviously enjoying a rare quiet moment.

"Hi," Tyler said upon entering. His father didn't return the greeting. Instead he immediately began with one of his lectures that Tyler so disliked about him.

"So how often do you intend to end up behind bars in the weeks to come?" his father asked calmly. "You jeopardize your future―and my reputation by the way. As if I didn't have better things to do than spending my time in the waiting rooms of the police department..."

"Have you ever considered being a little bit... well, proud of me?" Tyler snapped.

"Proud?" Charles shot his son a blank look.

"Yes, fucking proud," Tyler said angrily. "For standing up for Caroline, for doing what _you _should have done."

"You mean I should have toppeled the desk of a little school girl and throw a fire extinguisher through a glass pane?" Charles threw him an incredulous glance. It was evident that he didn`t find Tyler's comments funny in any way.

"You know exactly what I mean." Tyler said. "If you had turned up, it wouldn't have been necessary to throw things around. Your presence alone and a word in earnest with that stupid teacher or the headmaster would have bloody well done the trick. Or maybe youcould have called the mother of that brat and give the two of them a telling off or something! That surely wouldn't have financially hurt you! Apart from that you could have given Caroline some kind of emotional support!"

It had not been his intention to get angry so quickly again. But the indifferent air about his father kept bringing him to the boil again and again lately. He wished Charles wouldn't have this kind of power over him, wouldn't stir so many negative emotions in him. With satisfaction, though, Tyler noticed how his father―obviously somewhat affected by his words― pensively stared into space,his fingers playing with a pen.

"Tyler, it is not that I didn't care about it," Charles said coolly after a little while in a pathetic attempt to defend himself. "I phoned Caroline yesterday and told her how sorry I was."

Tyler just snorted. As if a simple phonecall could replace a hug...

"You'll never learn..." he said bitterly. His voice was hardly audible when he added -more to himself than to his father - 'Asshole...'

Charles apruptly got up from his chair and shot Tyler a furious glance. He had heard it. And suddenly his indifferenceseemed to have given way to anger. In fact he was fuming.

"I am not having you talk to me like that! What the hell do you want?! And who are you to tell me what I should do and what I should not do!" he yelled.

"Who I am? I am your son, just in case you have forgotten!" Tyler retorted, "But how can I expect you to remember! You know what I think? You are so bloody absorbed with your work, you wouldn't even notice if I fucking killed myself!"

Tyler noticed his father flinch at the , the two men were just quietly staring at each other.

"Don't you dare to ever joke about this again," Charles finally whispered. He seemed still shaken because of Tyler's suicide remark,which as Tyler knew, had obviously touched a sensitive spot in his father's memory – Michael's death.

_Finally he is listening to me, finally... _Tyler thought rather content. In fact he had never seen his father as attentive as in this very moment.

"I am not bloody joking..." Tyler retorted, his voice quavering.

"You are insane," Charles said. Tyler, feeling how his anger seemed to overwhelm him again, worried that he might smash something if he stayed any longer. That's why he turned on his heel and headed towards the way out, completely forgetting why he had come: to talk to his father about the charges. But he didn't really care about it anymore. All he wanted was to get out.

"Tyler!" Charles called after him with a sharp voice. "I insist that you come back!"

But Tyler just gave him the finger and slammed the door.

He ran past Janine who said something to him, but he ignored her.

"Tyler!" could hear his father shout again in the distance. But he had already reached the elevator and got the doors closed he let out a sigh.

Ten, nine, eight, exhale, seven, six, five, exhale, four, three, two, one, zero...

He found that counting and breathing helped. At least temporarily.

Charles

_What the hell have I done wrong? _Charles asked himself again and again as he was watching the doors of the elevator close and his son disappear behind it.

What have I done to deserve this? Have I not done my very best to be a good father? Have I not done everything in my power to fulfil my family's every needs?

Deep inside he had to admit, though, that his work was not merely something entirely unselfish. Only he knew―or at least hehoped that nobody else was aware of it―that his work also served as some kind of therapy. It kept him from brooding. It helped him drown memories that he'd rather forget. It helped him to get rid of these feelings of guilt that he felt overcome with whenever his thoughts trailed off to that day when Michael died, because he couldn't get rid of the thought that he should have read the signs beforehand. Because he blamed himself for not having been able to save his beloved son.

Of course he loved Tyler, too, although Tyler made it not really easy for him to love him, with his stubbornness and angrymoods always getting in the way.

And of course he loved Caroline. How could he not love her. She was a little gem. So clever, so smart, and yet so small, sovulnerable. And maybe that was the problem. Seing her, feeling her tiny arms around him always made him become aware how vulnerable everybody was, how vulnerable he himself was deep inside.

Vulnerable like a child.

No matter how high one had risen up the ladder, no matter how much influence one had, very very deep inside one was a child, fragile, afraid of being rejected, and easily wounded. Even he could be wounded, although nobody noticed most of the time. Tyler's rude remark that he was an asshole had wounded him for example; more than he would ever admit to himself or anybody else. He flinched at the thought of it, felt his vanity and pride hurt. But what seriously eclipsed his grudge about the 'asshole'-remark was something else that Tyler had said.

_...if I bloody killed myself_.

Charles felt a highly unpleasant pain in his stomach setting in. And there was something else. Some other feeling. At first hecouldn't really categorize it, because it felt so unfamiliar as he had so successfully managed to drown it out for years. But then,after a little while, he gradually began to realize what it was. It was fear.

Fear of losing yet another son.

"Mr. Hawkins? Walker is on line three. Will you take the call?"

"Er... yes..." Slightly confused Charles turned to look at Janine.

"Are you alright?" his assistant looked at him slightly worried. "You look rather pale." Suddenly Charles remembered again where he was, who he was, and above all, what he had to do.

He looked at his watch. 8.10 am. The meeting with Snyder would only be at 9. Originally he had wanted to spend the remaining time with dictating some important letters and making a call to Takuro about that contract that the latter wanted to have altered. But that could wait.

"Janine," he said, rather excitedly now. "Please tell Walker I'll call him from my cell phone in a minute. But most importantly call security downstairs, and tell them not to let Tyler walk out of this building as soon they see him coming out of the elevator. I still have got a bone to pick with him. Tell them that they will easily recognize him by his dirty shirt..."

"Alright," Janine answered, while Charles was storming out of the room. He ran across the hall over to the elevator, quickly got inside and dialled Walker's Walker answered the call, Charles tried hard to concentrate on what he was saying, which was difficult, because his mind was so occupied with other things

_...if I bloody killed myself_

Tyler

WTC entrance hall.

Tyler stepped out of the elevator and marched across the hall, straight over to the exit, when he was approached by a securityguard, an eldery grey-haired man who stopped him and blocked his way.

"Tyler Hawkins? I am sorry but I can't let you go." he said, his voice firm.

"And why is that?" Tyler asked irritated and confused.

"Your father wants you to wait. He is on his way down," the security man explained.

"Hey, Ned, are you dealing with this?" one of the other security men called over to the grey-haired one that had spoken to Tyler.

"Yes, that's him here. I'll take care of it," the security man who had been called Ned said to his colleague.

Tyler snorted and then grumpily lingered in a corner next to a pot with a palm tree, observed by Ned's suspicious eyes. The other security men had lost interest in him and were dealing with other people.

While he was impatiently pacing up and down the hall, Tyler spotted his face in one of the tall mirrors lining the walls. He was wondering if there was much about him that reminded of his father. Judging by his tousled hair, the stained shirt and the different looks in general, Tyler was able to answer this question with no. But that were just the physical aspects. He didn't know how much of his father was slumbering inside of him. Would he be like his father one day? He shuddered at the thought.

_It was surely the 'asshole'-remark that made him see red..., _Tyler guessed.

He wasn't in the mood for another confrontation with his father at all and was nervously hoping for a moment to come when he could escape.

Ned seemed to be little overtaxed with his job. He was hardly able to handle the enormous amount of people who were walking in and out of thebuilding. Tyler saw his chance coming when Ned suddenly had to deal with a courier from a delivery service, who obviously had no idea where to find the office that he was supposed to deliver a parcel to. Ned went into a major effort to explain it to him. At the same time a group of about four window cleaners was crossing the hall on their way out to get some things from their van. Tyler quickly reacted and mingled with them, guessing that he wouldn't stand out too much as the cleaners were dressed equally casually as himself, whereas everybody else around him was wearing suits and ties.

Before Ned and his fellow security men had a chance to realize what was going on, Tyler had slipped out of the building. He heard the security man shout something after him, but Tyler had already run around the corner, where he paused to light a fag. Then gh raised a hand to stop a cab.

Charles

WTC entrance hall.

Charles stomped out of the elevator.

"Where is he?" he asked Ned, whose face reddened with shame. He heard Ned mumble something incoherent about a delivery service.

"You will have to carry the consequences! You all!" Charles barked. Then he ran outside, looked hectically up and down theroad, just to see Tyler climb into a cab.

"Tyler!" he called at the top of his lungs. But Tyler didn't hear him.

"Fuck you, Tyler...!"A little delegation of Chinese businessmen, who were walking past him, turned their heads and shot him disconcerting glances.

Charles checked his watch. There was still time left until that meeting with Snyder, but not really enough to go on a tour through the congested city. Charles sighed, ruffled his hair, struggling with himself. Ultimately, he hastened over to the sidewalk and jumped inside a cab that had just turned up.

"Follow that cab!" he yelled at the driver before the latter had a chance to ask him where he wanted to go. Charles hoped that the driver wouldn't lose sight of Tyler's cab. Already several cars had come between them.

"That's almost impossible, Sir, with all that traffic... " the driver remarked helplessly.

"I'll pay for the tickets!" Charles said, in the process of dialling Tyler's cell phone number. It was ringing but Tyler didn't answer.

"Fuck you..." Charles mumbled again.

"You talking to me, man?" the driver asked surprised and shot Charles a slightly menacing look in the rear mirror.

"No, no, just follow that damn car..." Charles hastened to say. Then he called Janine.

Janine

Charles's office.

Janine was typing a letter when the telephone rang. It was Charles Hawkins and he sounded rather edgy.

"Janine, look, this will take longer than I thought. I am currently sitting in a cab going to God knows where. I hope to be back by nine. If Takuro calls tell him, I have made the amendments to the contract. Bye."

Janine opened her mouth to say something in return, but her boss had already hung up. She secretively smiled to herself and then called David Hamilton from Hamilton Insurance, some 25 floors below.

Deep inside, she knew she shouldn't call him. She shouldn't even meet him. After all, she was married. For weeks she had been pondering what it was that made her feel so attracted to David. She guessed that it was simply because he knew how to flatter her, how to make her feel precious and still beautiful despite her age. He woed her like a teenager, made her feel like a queen. Contrary to David, Janine's husband took everything for granted: the fact that she had a full time job and still did the cooking in the evenings when they both came home, that she washed his underpants and socks and still tried to be attractive and make love to him although she often felt too tired.

Not that they wouldn't have been able to afford a house help. But her husband didn't trust anyone and didn't want any stranger in his house.

"David, it's me," Janina said with a girlish chuckle.

"Hello my sweetheart, will I see you during lunch?" David answered with his soft velvety voice that always sounded like a caress.

"I doubt it..." Janine said and sighed, "My boss will keep me busy all day with that new joint venture with Xymtex on the way. But he is actually out of the office now, and it looks as if he'll be gone for a good while."

"Wanna come down for a coffee?" David asked and in her mind's eye she could see him smile.

"Give me ten minutes," Janine whispered merrily, her heart beating fast. She hung up, set her phone to divert the incoming calls to her cell phone, which she intended to take with her. Then she applied some lipstick, checked her hair in the mirror, and walked over to the door. Momentarily she hesitated. She hated these moments of being torn between her desire and her bad conscious towards her husband. Not that she had a bad conscious towards her boss. It wouldn't be the first time that he didn't let her go on her lunchbreak or made her work overtime. She felt like she deserved that little break now.

Still she hesitated. Something felt odd that day, when she closed the door behind her. But she was unable to say what it was. She locked the door behind her, crossed the hall and entered the elevator which would bring her down to the 68th floor.

Tyler

"Now, where are we going?" the cab driver, a Jamaican with a flashing smile, asked Tyler and started the taximeter.

"Dunno..." Tyler mumbled.

"You gotta know where you're going, man?" the Jamaican said, started the car and looked in the rear mirror where he saw Tyler fumble in his trouser pockets for a wallet. Tyler opened the wallet and showed the Jamaican its content.

"That's all I've got. Does that get me to this address here?" Tyler asked and handed the driver a piece of paper with Ally's address in Brooklyn. The Jamaican peered at the content of the wallet and the piece of paper and frowned momentarily. But then, with a dismissive gesture of his hand he said, "You know what, I like you, man. And you are lucky. Got my generous day today. So off to Brooklyn then."

And while the Jamaican was struggling his way through morning traffic Tyler was staring out of the window, hanging on to had been a very spontaneous idea, that visit to Ally's place. He didn't actually know what he wanted there. She wouldn't even be home at this time of day as she would be on her way to school. Still, he played with the thought of hanging around in her street like a bloody stalker, waiting for her to return. And then he would give her a piece of his mind. Yes, that's what he would do. He would tell her that he was angry that she didn't give him a second chance, that she hadn't called him for days, that she simply threw away everything they got just because of some silly idea that had not even been his own and that wasn't relevant anymore anyway as he loved her.

But when the cab had crossed Brooklyn Bridge his courage suddenly failed him. The thought scared him that his subliminal plea to be forgiven wouldn't be accepted yet again and that he would preach to deaf ears.

"Just let me out over there at the corner, will you?" he said to the cab driver, who shot him a puzzled look, but then did as Tyler told him to and let him looked around. He didn't have any idea where he were. All he knew was that he needed a coffee. A strong one.

Charles

Charles had been struggling for the past ten in minutes to keep his temper and fears under control, ever since he had realized Tyler's cab heading for Brooklyn Bridge, worrying that Tyler had the crazy idea of wanting to jump off that bridge. He let out asigh of relief when the cab didn't stop and they had finally crossed the bridge.

Ultimately he saw the cab came to a halt atsome corner and Tyler hop out and enter a diner.

"I'll get out here," Charles said to the driver, threw some money at him and jumped out of the car. When he entered the diner, he was confronted with the pungent smell of stale fat used for deep-frying. He found Tyler sitting at the far end of the room, blankly staring at the table in front of him.

Diner

When Tyler heard the door of the diner open, he looked up and―to his surprise―saw his father enter. He seemed to be rather upset, not really with anger, but with fear. That was new to Tyler.

Charles let himself plonk down on a chair opposite Tyler and exhaled deeply.

"Never ever say that you would kill yourself and then run away, you hear me?"

"I didn't say that I would kill myself," Tyler replied. "I said you wouldn't notice it if I did."

Tyler refrained from telling his father that he in fact had momentarily played with the thought, but as this thought had only beena very fleeting one, he didn't find it necessary to mention it. He seriously didn't want to upset his father even more. He seemedchurned up enough, which surprised him. Charles shot Tyler a piercing glance.

"You scared the shit out of me."

"So you apparently do care for me after all," Tyler rolled his eyes and helplessly threw his hands up in the air.

"Of course I do!" A waitress lazily ambled over to them, a bored expression on her face, and chewing on some gum.

"Your orders?" she asked, pulling out her little notepad to write down the order.

Charles, momentarily puzzled, raised his head.

"Oh... er... yes... er... would you be so kind to bring me the menu, please?" he asked politely.

"We've got burger with mayonaise, burger with ketchup, fries with mayonaise and fries with ketchup," the waitress rattled onunemotionally, blowing bubbles with her gum.

"Do you have anything else bar burgers and fries?" Charles asked carefully.

The waitress stood with her arms akimbo and shot him an unnerved and impatient glance.

"No."

"Alright," Charles said and shot her a smile which she didn't return. "I think I will just have a water, thanks."

"A coke, please," Tyler mumbled.

The waitress gave the grimy table a quick sloppy wipe with a dirty cloth, then she walked off.

"Nice place," Charles remarked sarcastically.

Tyler didn't reply.

"Tell me, when will you stop letting your anger about the world and life out on me...?" Charles asked calmly.

Tyler turned his head and pensively stared out of the window, while his fingers began to nervously play with the saltshaker onthe table. He wasn't sure if he liked the turn that conversation was taking, because deep inside he knew that his father was right, that at least part of the anger that he directed at him had nothing to do with his father at all but with the world and life, that he found unjust in general.

"Tyler, listen to me carefully now, because you just have me in the mood, and I am not going to ever talk about this like that again: Don't let my... well, my occasional 'coolness' let you trigger into believing that Michael's death had not affected me."

Tyler was close to exclaiming that he didn't regard his father's behavior as cool, but as the mere incapability of feeling anythingclose to love.

"Maybe it is just that I have a different way of dealing with it. It doesn't mean that I am emotionally 'crippled' or something like that," Charles added. "Maybe it is also that... well, that holding my emotions back gives me some kind of control over myselfand life..."

Tyler frowned, but still listened attentively. He had never heard his father talk like that before.

"You know, I was actually hoping that this Ally-girl would have kind of a soothing influence on you," Charles said.

Tyler laughed bitterly.

"She had a soothing influence on me until she dumped me..."

"She dumped you? Why is that?"

"Long story. I am not sure if I want to tell..."Charles looked at him in confusion and somewhat annoyed.

"You keep saying me that I wasn't interested in you. So I chase you all the way to this greasy dive here risking not only to let abusiness deal slip through my fingers but also to catch sallmonellae poisoning from some burgers, and now you tell me you arenot sure you don't want to tell me."

Tyler had to agree that his father was right yet again. He should tell him now that he was obviously willing to listen. Still, he feltuneasy about it, knowing that his father would again scold him for jumping on Aidan's train and pulling through that crazy ideaof taking revenge on Ally's father by chatting her up with the result of falling in love with her. If he wanted his father's respecthe would surely not get it by telling him all of this.

"Aidan―it was his idea," he still began, hesitatingly. "But I was stupid enough to follow his advice. Initially it turned out not tobe too bad after all, as I really got to know her. But then... Look, I don't want to talk about this, seriously. It is just over,alright?"

"Alright..." Charles let out a sigh of they were staring out of the window watching the traffic on the street.

"I wish we'd find a common ground, Tyler..." Charles mumbled.

"So do I," Tyler mumbled. He turned his head to look at his father. The waitress arrived and brought them their drinks.

"So why don't we take this occasion and drink to a new start?"Tyler uncertainly stared at his father who raised his glass. Hesitantly he equally raised his glass, then Charles's phone rang.

"Sorry, I need to take this... Hello?! Yes, hello, Takuro! Great to hear from you!"

Tyler shook his head in disbelief and couldn't refrain from chuckling. Some things simply never changed. The sudden ridiculous vision had emerged in front of his mind's eye of his father being in the act of making love to a woman when his cellphone rang and how he would answer it and say, 'Uh oh... sorry, baby, but I need to take this call. Hello Takuro! Konitschiwa! Iam just having sex but as soon as I am done here I'll make the amendments to the contract...'

Tyler sighed. Still, he felt an unusal inner satisfaction about the talk they had just had. His suicide comment obviously had triggered something in his father, to open up a little bit. Maybe there was still hope.

Tyler let his gaze wander about the diner watching the waitress as she was going after her work, how she emptied the ashtrays, how she flirted with a customer, how she lit a cigarette.

Eventually his eyes got stuck to the TV on the counter. The sound was off but Tyler could see that it was CNN with some live coverage.

Suddenly, like paralyzed, Tyler slowly got up and walked over to the counter, unable to take his eyes off the screen.

"Yes I know, we made the amendmends to the contract," Charles said, "Yes, section 2 was removed... yes... yes... Section 3,remains as it is, yes, that's right."

"Excuse me," Tyler nervously called over to the waitress, "Can you turn that volume up...? Quick!"

The waitress turned up the volume, equally looked at the screen.

"What the fuck...?" she mumbled under her breath.

"Listen, Tyler," Tyler heard his father, who had by now finished his phonecall, say in the back, "Can I now trust you that you won't do anything... anything stupid? I can't hang around here all day! I need to go back to the office.

"Tyler slowly turned his head and with a blank expression in his face stared at his father, who flicked some coins on the table forthe water that he had ordered and never touched.

"Dad... I think we should rather go home now..."

Charles momentarily shot him a puzzled glance. Then he turned his head and looked at the television screen.

Tyler's father was as pale as a ghost. They were hardly speaking during the cab ride, which couldn't really be described as aride, as they were rather standing in endless queues instead of moving. The whole of New York seemed to be a traffic jam. While they had been leaving the diner both their phones had rang a dozen times.

First Diane, then Snyder, then Diane again,then Aidan, then Janine.

Diane had been unable to articulate anything, she had just been sobbing and squealing, wanted toknow where Charles and Tyler were. Snyder had seen the news on TV and was beyond himself with worry. Janine said that she had left the building as soon as she had heard that there was a fire. yler momentarily wondered why she had not been in the office when it happened but several floors below, but ultimately didn't care about the reason behind that obvious miracle.

The phone rang again, as the taxi was making its way through town snail 's checked the name on the display.

He startled, hesitated. Then ever so quickly took the call.

"Ally...?" he croaked, trying to understand what she said as sirens of ambulance cars, fire brigades and police were drowning outevery other sound.

"Where... where are you...?" he believed to understand.

"I am in a cab on my way home, with Dad..." Tyler explained.

Silence.

He sensed that she was close to crying. As was he.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice quavering, as she desperately tried to swallow her tears.

"Yes," Tyler replied.

_Please forgive me_..., he thought.

"Aidan is here is with me," she said.

"Aidan? What does he want from you?" Tyler asked sharply.

"He was just trying to convince me that you are not an asshole, when... when... "

Ally replied, her voice shaking. Then she broke off."

"And is he successful?" Tyler asked uncertainly.

"With what?" Ally asked. She appeared confused. He could hear faint background voice of some news reporter on TV.

"With convincing you," Tyler mumbled wearily. He could hear Aidan say something to hear, but he didn't understand what.

"I'll see you at your mum's," Ally suddenly said. Her voice sounded rather soft. Then she hung up.

Tyler leant his head at the cool window pane and closed his eyes, trying to drown out the world around him.

Two hours later.

Tyler's parentss' home.

The whole family was quietly sitting around the kitchen table; Les, Diane, Caroline, Charles. Tyler was sitting on the sofa in the living room, incredulously staring at the TV screen, where CNN was still reporting live from thescene, the latter covered in smoke, covered in dust, covered in grief. He knew it would take him a while until he would have digested this, if he would ever digest it. Nothing would ever be the same for nothing would ever be the same for his father. The whole incident had cut the ground from under his feet. And from under Tyler's feet.

Therew as something that was gradually slipping into his awareness: The fact that nothing counted more than this instant. People tended to simply feel too safe and too absorbed by everyday life and problems to realize that outer circumstances could actually disturb the regularity in their day to day procedures. Everything suddenly seemed to become tiny and insignificant, now that he thought about it. What significance had a stay of a couple of hours in prison? None at all compared to the grief other people were currently going through. And how insignificant were all he smaller things worry us and occupy us day in day out, things we believe to be impotant. Though they are in fact not in the face of real disaster.

"Are you sure you don't want us call a doctor...? You seem to be in a state of shock," Diane asked Charles softly, a troubled expression on her face. Her eyes were still red from crying.

Charles didn't answer. He hadn't spoken ever since his arrival at home. Instead he began to weep. Caroline suddenly got up from her chair and walked around then table over to her father. She carefully placed a hand on his he began to cry so much that his whole body was shaking and it seemed to Tyler that he also cried all those tears tha the had not allowed himself to cry back then when Michael had wordlessly handed him a handkerchief.

"I am sorry..." Charles suddenly began, his voice shaking, "So sorry..."

He buried his head in his ex-wife's lap and cried.

Tyler let out a sigh. He didn't know what to say or think. He could hardly believe what had gotten into his father. He couldhardly believe to see his father cry. And suddenly it all seemed too much for him. He had wanted to see his father emotional.

And now that he was, he couldn't bear it. Maybe because it would have triggered the emotional side in him as well, would have made him cry too. And he didn't want that. Not in front of everyone else.

There you go, you are becoming like dad...

He didn't care anymore if he was like his father or not. He almost even began to finally understand him.

"I think I'll go for a smoke..." he mumbled but hardly anyone heard him. They were all too busy comforting Charles who was literally breaking apart.

Tyler walked out of the room and sat down outside on the stairwell. He lit a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, pulled at it. Then he let his head sink into his hands, wishing there was someone who would hold him, too, who would comfort him. He was sitting in this position for a while when he suddenly felt a hand gently stroke his head.

He slowly raised his head and stared into Ally's eyes. They were red. Like his. But she smiled faintly. Behind her he saw Aidan bashfully linger on the pavement. Realizing that Ally wanted to spend some time alone with Tyler, Aidan quietly walked up the stairs and went inside to be with Tyler's family.

Ally sank next to Tyler on the ground and flung her arms around him. He carelessly let the fag drop to the floor and eagerly returned the kisses she gave him. He leant his forehead on hers, their noses touching, let his fingers run through her hair.

"I want to be with you..." she whispered, her eyes moist.

"I want to be with you, too." He took her hand and promised to himself to never waste a single moment in his life anymore.

Bad things happen, and we might be triggered into believing that the world is an evil place to be and that God doesn't care about us.

And therein lies the secret.

What we believe becomes reality.

And our thoughts create our world as we see it.

Therefore, no matter what happens, never stop to believe in the good.

And in God,who loves us.


End file.
